Artist's work, odd collection of inspirations make statement, decorate his home

Artwork and various objects of creative interest fill Hilgenberg’s two-bedroom apartment in Midtown. For two decades, one of his main projects has been decorating envelopes with illustrations, quotes and handmade stamps, and mailing them to friends and strangers alike.

Several piece of original correspondence art from Joel Hilgenberg.

Hilgenberg’s kitchen is decorated with some art made by his 7-year-old daughter, Porter. “It’s important for the little people to explore expressing themselves,” he says.

Joel Hilgenberg still displays last year’s Christmas tree, a pink miniature covered with ribbons and trinkets.

Between teaching art to elementary school kids, attending night classes at Memphis College of Art for his master's degree, and raising a 7-year-old daughter, Joel Hilgenberg still finds time to produce art.

"I make things because I have to make things," said Hilgenberg, 42. "I would still make things if no one ever saw them."

His artwork and the inspiration for his creations fill his two-bedroom Midtown apartment.

His kitchen table, a hand-me-down from fellow artist and longtime friend and subject Tim Andrews, serves as a catchall for Hilgenberg's ongoing mail art projects.

For over two decades, Hilgenberg, a Germantown High School graduate and Brooks Museum scholastic award recipient, has covered archival-quality envelopes — Fabriano — with illustrations, quotes, images from handmade stamps, and witticisms that he sends to friends and strangers alike.

"I first started sending them to dead people, as thank-you notes to people who were important to me," Hilgenberg said. "Then I started sending them to strangers, then to people I know.

And, yes, he includes his own return address.

Sometimes to no avail, sometimes he makes a new friend, and once he even made a temporary enemy.

"They never have anything threatening on them, but one guy got mad at me in Texas and threatened me to a duel," he said.

Piled on this table are erasers he cuts with his array of woodcarving tools to make stamps, jars of ink, a perforating tool, and a never-ending supply of shipping tags.

"Working on envelopes is different than painting — the scale of them and the act of putting them in a mailbox," he said. "There's a lack of caution to what you do with them. They're kind of a fun thing that's experimental and temporary. A psychological thing happens — your brain sees differently. Anything I can do to keep it interesting."

Above his table of mail art sits a shelf of more bizarre wonderment.

A library of books on fonts, a Korean baby pillow — said to scare away bad dreams — a sealed jar full of his and his daughter Porter's breath; and a collection of cameras.

"I just took my first photography class," he said.

Porter unwillingly played model for him, as can be seen by his framed photographs of her that also hang in his kitchen.

Porter plays a fundamental role in all of Hilgenberg's activities, including his creative practice.

She recently participated in a show of his mail art, held in July 2011 at the Beauty Shop Restaurant, where she displayed 10 of her own envelopes alongside 100 of his.

And sold out.

"She made $100, and she was only 5," Hilgenberg boasted with a crooked smile. "It's important for the little people to explore expressing themselves. I try to keep my daughter included."

Two of her envelopes hang over his kitchen sink.

Her room works as a studio for her as well, with a tree painted with maroon chalkboard paint in the corner for her thoughts and sketches, and a wall, painted purple, dedicated to her clothing line, which includes lots of sequins and staples.

Just as his kitchen is reserved for letter-making, his living room serves as his painting studio, where the walls are covered in archival paper taped up with blue painter's tape.

A futon works for studying his pieces, and eating dinner or watching a movie, with an easel for the occasional canvas or panel to paint on, and a sea of acrylic paint.

"I use all kinds — the really good stuff, the cheapest, house paint," he said.

There's also last year's Christmas tree, a pink artificial miniature covered in ribbons and trinkets.

"That's a 7-year-old's tree," he said. "Now I kind of like it."

Next to the tree is a wall of plates, from antiques to Ikea — a "failed installation."

"It was a Saturday afternoon idea," he said. "I have this weird thing. I have to have things around to look at."

That includes his hallway, which is covered in artwork by friends and heroes, including a shadow box of a friend's mail art correspondence, as well as his various collections.